Clinging to Hope
by emmeerry
Summary: AU: The 67th Hunger Games creates a spark when Katniss Everdeen volunteers for her sister Primrose. Now she is going home, living her life and scraping together the little hope she has left. She thought, once, it might be easy. She has no idea.


**Hey there, Em here. Just a little crazy idea that may or may not work, please review and tell me if you like or dislike it.**

* * *

_Prologue_

It is over. I have won. And strangely, or maybe not so strangely, I am not as indifferent as I thought I was before. I do not grieve, or maybe I do, but it does not feel like grieving. I am simply affected. There is a part of me, a part whose size I have not yet finalized, that has stopped. It has not broken or shattered or gone as so many others have described the pain, it has only stopped. I am not certain whether it is healthier than other forms of grief, or if it can even be considered a form of grief, but it is what it is, and like so many other events that have happened over the last few weeks, I must simply deal with it to the best of my ability. I have always been a survivor. I have survived so far. I have passed the ultimate test of physical endurance. My greatest fear at present is that this may have been the easiest of the tests that lie ahead of me.

_"Ladies and Gentlemen may I present the Victor of the 67th Annual Hunger Games,_

_Katniss Everdeen of District Twelve!"_

* * *

The first new test that I am made aware of is one of mental endurance. I awaken that night, only days after escaping the arena, to tortured screams and violent images. I cannot make sense of what is happening to me. I see only memories.

The bloodbath. Murder. My first kill. Horror. My second kill. Safety. Dehydration. Starvation. Hope. Determination. Injury. Infection. Pain. Worry. Healing. My third kill. Fear. Pain. Injury. Hopelessness. My fourth kill. The flooding. Panic. Desperation. Drowning. Swimming, Floating, Sinking. Blackness. Awakening. Hypothermia. Warmth. Fear. Desperation. Hope. Realisation. More hope. Two of us left. Planning. Fear. Hope. Confrontation. Knives. Spears. Arrows. A cannon.

By the time the images have vanished, I feel myself becoming more aware of my surroundings. I am in a large, luxurious bed that could only be in the Capitol. I am no longer in the Hospital; I remember that I have been released for my interview tomorrow. I am curled up in the centre of the bed, my legs tucked close into my chest holding myself the way only he has ever held me.

Gradually, I note that the screams have broken, leaving only broken, hoarse sobs in their wake. I am also no longer alone. Two Avox are either side of me, holding a glass of water, a box of tissues and some pills, which I can only presume are sleeping tablets. Haymitch is also here, standing in the doorway, wearing an uncharacteristic expression that I cannot quite place for a moment, until he steps forward into the light streaming in my window. There is no pity in his eyes, but there is regret, sadness, pain, sympathy and more than anything, empathy. He holds my gaze for a minute, maybe longer. There is no need for words, there is no need for either of us to explain or justify, because we have both been there. Haymitch is one of the few people, the only other living person from District Twelve, who truly understands.

After my sobs have died down and I am left with silent tears, a sore throat and soaked bedding from sweat and tears, he approaches. We still do not speak, the only audible sounds are the quiet movements of the Avoxs leaving the room after delivering their loads. The huntress in me notes that Haymitch's footsteps are almost silent but not as quiet as Gale's. He sits on the edge of the bed, holding my gaze before opening his arms slowly.

"Come here sweetheart."

I break. I am sobbing again, this time out of grief more so than terror. I grieve for the girl boy from Five, my first kill. I grieve for the boy from One, my second kill. I grieve for the girl from Nine, my third kill. I grieve for the girl from Two, my fourth kill. I grieve for the boy from Four, my fifth and final kill. I grieve for my district partner, lost in the bloodbath. I grieve for all the other tributes that fell in the arena, for their families and for myself. I grieve for the girl I once was, any innocence I had left that is now gone, the little peace I had that is now lost and the parts of me that will never function like before. I grieve for Katniss Everdeen, citizen of District Twelve. She is not gone, but she is damaged and I do not know if what is left of her will be enough for me to cope.

I can hear voices in the background and possibly the sound of the television and I wonder how long I have been asleep. My tears dry up, not because my pain has lessened, but because I am beginning to feel faint. I realize that Haymitch has pulled me closer to him and that he is rubbing small circles on my back. It occurs to me that this is the most parental thing that I can ever remember anyone doing for me. I am more grateful than I will ever be able to express at the thought that I might be able to count on Haymitch as a father figure, someone to advise me, care for me, comfort me, know me and be there for me. Haymitch has already done most of those things for me. I squeeze him tighter, in gratitude and for my own comfort before withdrawing and drying my eyes with multiple tissues.

"It's only ten; you've only been out for about an hour. I called for more painkillers and sleeping pills, since the others didn't seem to do much good." He pauses for a minute, as if debating whether to add something more. "Some of the other Victors are here, it's tradition for a few of us. Meet up, get pissed drunk and forget the last month of hell. If- You-," He breaks off and shakes his head. "We're in the lounge." He stands, dropping a kiss on my forehead, and I am again caught up in how fatherly the gesture is. He has left before I am composed enough to speak.

I lay there in bed for as long as I can before I feel my eyelids slipping closed. I cannot sleep; I will not let myself if nightmares are all that await me. I rise, pull a robe out of my closet and head towards the main living area.

Seated on the couches and the floor are seven people, some I recognize, some I don't. Haymitch sits in a lone armchair, nursing a half glass of liqueur. Closest to him on the couch is a man that looks to be about the same age as Haymitch, who is holding a large bottle of alcohol the same colour as Haymitch's. I know I have seen him before, mostly drinking with Haymitch on television.

The woman beside him is older and almost looks as though she could be from the Seam. She looks vaguely familiar, although maybe that is because of her familiar features. Next to her is a dark skinned man with round glasses and I instantly identify him as a Victor from District Three by the emblem on his jacket. Beside him is an elderly woman who I do not recognize at all, but she looks far too old for me to have watched her Games. On the floor across from them, Finnick Odair, the heartthrob of District Four sits, looking thoughtfully at the ground, not having touched his drink.

For a moment we stare at each other, my gaze flickering between them, until Haymitch speaks. "Nice of you to join us, sweetheart. This is Chaff, Seeder, Beetee, Mags and Finnick" He indicates each one of them in turn, and they offer nods or smiles. "I'd offer you something, but I don't think Effie'd appreciate the both of us being hungover tomorrow."

"You won't be hungover, you'll still be drunk." The remark comes quicker than I expected, gaining a few snorts and chuckles from the other Victors. I am left believing that maybe there is more fire left in me than I thought. "Besides, I just wanted some hot chocolate."

As soon as the words leave my mouth an Avox has left to fetch them, and I sink into the couch with nothing else to do. It occurs to me that these people must have been here earlier and heard my breakdown and I feel like I should be ashamed, but I am too drained to care. The Avox is back not a minute later and a tray laid with bread and hot chocolate is placed in front of me.

The conversation picks up, Chaff telling an animated story about a friend of his who took the wrong train and ended up in District One instead of District Eleven. I listen to the story, but do not contribute much to the conversation. Chaff and Haymitch are practically drunk already, while Beetee and Mags are simply sipping their glasses. Finnick has not touched his.

Although the gathering is relaxed and welcoming, I feel out of place. They are all far older than me, bar Finnick who is the same age, but he is not exactly an active participant in the group. I settle on finishing my meager meal and returning to my room.

I tell them all goodnight and am surprised by their friendly responses, Chaff and Haymith toast my good nights sleep, Beetee wishes me a peaceful night and Mags and Seeder rise to give me comforting hugs. Even Finnick seems to snap out of whatever trance he was in, offering a soft smile. I do not understand Mags and Finnick's acceptance of me. I killed their tribute in the finale. I stopped them from winning.

It only occurs to me once I am in my room, already in bed with the sleeping pills in my hand, that falling asleep could mean losing myself again. I steel myself, refusing to submit to the fear and swallow the two small blue pills before I can change my mind. They act surprisingly fast, and I do not even have time to switch off the light before my eyelids droop closed.

* * *

When I wake for the second time, I am screaming again. It is not as bad as the first nightmare, where I saw only the worst parts of my games. This time, I see only the bloodbath, repeated over and over again. I cannot count the number of times it replays, but I could guess that it was at least ten times. By the end of it, I could recite every small detail of the arena, the tributes, the supplies, the weapons and the kills.

Even though I do not believe this nightmare was as bad as the first, it still brings the same whirlwind of emotions and within minutes I am sobbing once more. Once again a glass of water is left by my bed, but there are no new tablets.

Once the sobbing has died down to heavy tears, I realise how tired and heavy my body feels. I have exhausted myself almost completely. I feel like I do not have the strength to sit, let alone stand out of the bed. I do not move, simply letting the tears continue until I drift off for the third time that night.

* * *

Whether it is the nightmares or the lack of sleeping pills, I wake again soon after. Looking at the clock on the dresser, I see that it is barely three a.m. This time, instead of grief, exhaustion or pain, I simply do not feel anything.

I rise, dressing in a soft woolen sweater and tight black pants. The Victor's interview is set for this evening, so I do not need to dress up, Cinna and my prep team will be here in a few hours. I choose instead to explore the building.

We are no longer in the training centre, instead we are in a much larger building. We are once more in the penthouse, but it is much larger and even more extravagant than before. One I find the elevator, I note that it is labeled 'Victors Floor'. Also in the building are floors for the mentors of all twelve districts, a floor entitled 'Mentor's Control Rooms' and a basement, labeled 'Skills Floor'.

I hit the bottom button, heading to the basement. The glass walls of the elevator give me a clear view of the Capitol to one side, and each floor as I pass them. I do not see anyone around, but I hear voices on some floors. The Control Room is dark, so I cannot see it yet.

The doors open and I find myself in a room similar to the training centre. Here, there are no instructors or Gamemakers watching me, but their are similar weapons stations, archery, knives, spears, swords, maces and dart guns. The survival skills are absent.

The simulators here seem much more advanced than the basic ones I used before the games. Here, you input a program into a panel and it starts a real scenario. I gravitate to the archery station almost automatically, choosing an average wooden bow and quiver of arrows, a medium difficulty level and a random setting before hitting the start panel.

I am transported to a rocky mountain terrain, with dips and highs everywhere. It looks like it would be impossible to run on, but I do not need to run. I need to find a lookout spot where I have some protection but can still aim and shoot. I have just ducked down behind a boulder when I see my first opponent scrambling up the mountain. She is clearly armed with two belts of throwing knives. There is an arrow in her neck before she can look up.

My mind shuts off, and I focus on the simulation only. It reminds me of hunting back in the forest in Twelve. Suddenly I am not so afraid that I am broken beyond repair. I remind myself that I am a survivor, I have been since I was twelve years old. If I can remember this, I think I will always have a little hope.

* * *

When I finish the simulation, I am gasping for air. I let out a small delirious laugh and a smile spreads across my face. I have realised that I may never be the same again, but I can still be me. I am so caught up and overwhelmed by this that I am caught off guard by the sound of applause from behind me.

I whirl around, bow at the ready, to see Finnick Odair leaning casually against a display panel. "Not bad," he comments, pointing to the screen where my statistics are displayed. "You took down 23 with 29 arrows, and only took one hit yourself. Non-fatal, but I bet you could have avoided it." I shrug lightly.

"Maybe." I busy myself with returning the bow and arrows to their holders, feeling Finnick's gaze following me. I turn to face him and see him eyeing me with curiosity. "I'm Katniss," I blurt out, as it is the first thing that comes to mind. It seems my terrible social skills are something that will never change. He simply chuckles, still holding eye contact.

"I know. Katniss Everdeen of District Twelve, the Girl who was on Fire, Victor of the 67th Hunger Games." I raises an eyebrow and grins at me. "I'm Finnick Odair, Heartthrob of District Four and the Capitol, Victor of the 65th Hunger Games."

"I know," I mimic, not meaning to be so harsh, but my emotions are raw and I do not like the feeling. It is a weakness, one that I am not willing to share with a stranger. He gives me an appraising look, making me want to shiver, but I suppress the urge.

"Guess that's how you got that eleven in training, huh," he comments offhandedly, still trying to assess me.

"Yeah," I remark, somewhat bitterly, which he picks up on easily, raising an eyebrow once again. I do not like the way he is staring at me, as if he is trying to find a hidden value or secret. "Goodnight." I walk briskly to the elevator, turning only when I have stepped inside. He too has turned, still staring curiously at me, but looking faintly amused as well. He raises a hand to wave as the elevator moves up.

* * *

I return to my room for the remaining hours of the early morning, leaving again for breakfast at seven. I am joined by Effie and Cinna, but Haymitch is nowhere to be found. Cinna greets me with a soft smile and a kiss to the forehead. I eat minimally, not that hungry. Cinna tells me that my prep team will arrive after lunch, so I have a few hours of free time. I would love to spend them sleeping, but I know I will not sleep.

Instead I head to the District Twelve floor in search of Haymitch. He is not there, but I do hear his voices. I settle on trying the District Eleven floor to see if he is with Chaff. When I get there, Seeder answers and informs me that they are both down in the basement along with several of the other Victors. Apparently, it's common for them to go down there to waste time and mess around. She offers to go down with me and we both make our way to the elevator. She seems tense, before sighing and turning to me.

"I just wanted to let you know that us Victors, we're a family, well, all except District Two. That includes you now. You're one of us, and we will treat you like family. We've all been in the arena, we understand. If you ever need anything, someone to talk to or some comfort, don't hesitate to ask. Family looks out for each other." She offers me an understanding smie and I cannot answer for several moments. I settle on hugging her lightly.

"Thank you," I whisper softly, touched by her passionate words. I hesitate for a second before continuing. "The nightmares and flashbacks- do they ever go away?"

"Go away? No, I'm afraid not. They might get easier to deal with over time, though. Like I said if you ever need someone to talk to, hardly any of us sleep nights anymore." The elevator opens and I offer her a strained smile, which she returns, more sincerely than my own. I cannot believe that these people are so kind to me. 

* * *

In the training room, Chaff is running around with a spear twice his height, chasing a man I don't recognise. Haymitch sits in the corner with a small group, all roaring with laughter and sloshing alchohol everywhere. I notice Mags lying on a bench a little way away from them, and head towards her while Seeder heads towards the loud group.

We do not speak, but Mags lays a hand on my knee as we watch the other Victors goofing around. After a half an hour, the group in the corner has moved closer, I have been introduced to several other Victors, the District Two Victors who are training are giving us dirty looks and Mags has fallen asleep on my arm.

"She likes you," Royla, one of Seeder's friends from District Six, comments with a laugh. "The only person she usually falls asleep on is Finnick." I smile, feeling a lot more integrated with the group than before.

It feels like hardly any time has passed before lunch is announced and I have to return to my floor to prepare for the interview. I am wished good luck by almost all the Victors and given hilariously stupid advice by some of them, sending them into another fit of thunderous laughter.

When I reach my floor, I eat quickly before heading towards my bedroom where I expect Cinna and my prep team to be waiting. Instead, I hear two voices having a rather heated discussion. One of the voices is Cinna and I have not yet placed the second, although it is familiar.

"You can't, no. I can't tell you how I know, but please. Trust me, it's better for her." The voice sounds desperate and strained, as if pleading.

"I don't know what I can do, Mr. Odair. There are other dresses, of course but I don't know if they will be any better. " Finnick?

"Just choose something plain enough. It won't live up to your reputation and it can't stop it indefinitely, but it could help. We have to try. No one deserves this."

"How about this?" There is a rustling and the sound of doors opening and closing, before Cinna continues. "I had planned to add to it, but it might work."

"It's perfect. Thank you Cinna."

"No, thank you Finnick. Thank you for trying to save her. She-"

I stub my toe on the door and have to open it before they find out I was eavesdropping. I slip inside, trying to look surprised to see them there. I can only pray that my acting skills are improving. I have a feeling I failed, but it is too late now.

Finnick looks panicky for a second, before his expression changes completely and I envy his acting skills. He offers me a friendly smile and squeezes my shoulder as he passes me in the doorway. "Good Luck, Katniss."

I don't get time to thank him before my prep team has surrounded me, pushing me into a chair and beginning their work. They do my hair and makeup only as I had a full body polish done in the hospital. They comment on insignificant things as they work, what rewards they are gaining from knowing the latest Victor, friends, money, jewels, reputation and prestige. They inform me about all the latest scandals and it is then that I completely tune out.

By the time I am done, I have actually relaxed a great deal, and gined some well needed rest. Laid out on the bed is a black garment bag, and on various dressers are sewing kits and hundreds of other items. It is clear that whatever Finnick wanted, Cinna has worked hard on it. He does not speak to me, but takes the bag and unzips it.

Inside is a royal blue dress, that instantly reminds me of my mother's dress that I wore to the reaping. It is a heavier material and a darker colour, but the resemblance is clear. There is extra detail added to the skirt and sleeves in lace, just enough to make it simple and plain, yet stylish and fashionable. It is slightly loose on me, by design this time, unlike my mother's which was not made to fit me.

Cinna dresses me carefully, adding a white wrap shawl with more blue lace embroidery and a pair of low white heels. He turns me towards the mirror and the sight is more than I could ever have hoped for..

The dress is perfect, simple enough to suit me but not too plain. My hair is mostly u in small twists, with a few curls hanging down. There are pearls, diamonds and sapphires woven through it, sparking as the light hits them. I look beautiful for the first time since I came to the Capitol. Not stunning or breathtaking, but beautiful. I look like myself.

I turn back to Cinna to thank him, but I only get half of the words out before he is pressing a finger to my lips and telling me to thank Finnick later. There is a knowing look in his eyes and I realise I was caught eavesdropping. I have no time to reply before I am being pulled out the door and into the elevator. 

* * *

Caesar starts off his questioning slowly, general questions on how I have been and what I have been doing. I answer truthfully as possible, but I still feel awkward. We watch the recap, and I have to turn my head at parts. I see myself kill without a second thought, I see myself minutes from death and minutes from victory. I detach myself from the images, thinking of Prim and Gale and District Twelve and it works as well as I could hope. After the recap, Caesar continues with another few questions, mostly about home and my Victory tour. I don't even know how I answer most of them, but Haymitch gives me a thumbs up afterwards so I suppose I did alright.

I stay in my dress for the rest of the evening, because it is comfortable and I feel amazing. We spend time with some of the other Victors once again and at the end of the night sat our goodbyes. I am given phone numbers by Seeder, Mags, Royla, Finnick and Chaff, with promises to call. I try to question Finnick all evening, but he simply hands me the slip of paper and shakes his head.

"You'll know what I'm talking about when it happens and then, call that number."

I am still confused when I fall into bed at four a.m. but drift off before I have time to ponder it.

* * *

For the first time since the Games, I do not wake up screaming. I think I was probably too tired to, as there are tears streaming down my face and my pillow is soaked. Our train leaves at eight, so we don't have much time that morning. Cinna says goodbye that morning at breakfast and we leave soon after. Most of the others don't leave until much later, but District Twelve is too far away. Hopefully, we will be there by afternoon.

I don't let out a sigh of relief until I see the boundaries of District Twelve up ahead and then I finally relax. I have missed it more than words can explain. The mere thought of seeing Prim, Gale, Madge, my mother and so many others in only minutes makes my heart race. We pull into the station and I step off the train behind Effie and in front of Haymitch. I see Prim sitting on Gale's shoulder's in the middle of the crowd and I smile, genuinely, for the first time in a month.


End file.
